


Bored with You

by bettercrazythanboring



Series: fuck me if you must, then [2]
Category: Morning Glories
Genre: Classroom Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettercrazythanboring/pseuds/bettercrazythanboring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're still alive at a school like Morning Glories Academy, you've earned the right to not pay attention in class.</p>
<p>What you end up doing with that attention, however, is an entirely different question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bored with You

**Author's Note:**

> Quite possibly takes place in the same continuity as my Jade/Ike through-the-years story "If Only I Didn't Want You".

"I can feel you staring," she mutters nonchalantly, crossing her legs with barely a glance at him.

The teacher mumbles something in the front of the classroom—far,  _far_  away from them—and the worlds blur together as she draws little puddles of fire on the sides of her notebook.

Ike rests his head on his elbow and taps a few fingers on his cheek.

" _If_  I'm staring, then it's because the millennium-ago adventures of bearded old men with impotence are about as relevant as Mr. Crane's duck tie. I mean  _really_."

Ike's shudder might be a tiny bit exaggerated, but it's  _very_  real. Jade looks up at the teacher too—she hasn't really  _seen_  him today—and has to suppress a grin when the bright yellow jumps out at her. That monstrosity  _has_  to be violating some kind of dress code.

Or ethics. Or aesthetics. Or  _something_.

She imagines setting the tie on fire and a slow smile spreads on her lips at the thought.

"You might've been one of those old men, for all you know," Jade points out, continuing her scrawlings. "If that whole Samsara deal pans out."

He lowers his head slowly and dramatically to peer at her over his black shades.

"Me? Impotent?" He snorts. "Jade, please, do you  _want_  to send me to detention for having a bout of hysteric laughter?"

"Never bothered me before."

She drags her pencil back and forth, back and forth, and purses her lips, pretending to ignore when Ike resumes staring at her. To be honest, it's nothing out of the ordinary.

People chatter in the background, she uncrosses her legs, she drags a hand through her hair.

A glance outside the window to the sunny, blue skies. An examination of the letters scrawled into the desk wood with knives and pens. Tearing her notebook page apart, snippet by snippet, and letting scraps fall to the floor.

A sigh as she sinks deeper into her seat.

Once or twice, her eyes wander over to him out of habit. A wink greets her every time, appearing swiftly and immediately like clockwork.

It really seems like his gaze is glued to her. As if he's… waiting for something.

"Wanna play a guessing game?" she offers at last, out of other options. Whatever else Ike does, he never lets her be bored. So she pushes away her notebook and waves away a boy who glances back at them from the row over. His expression screams "silence!".

"Actually," Ike says. "I had something a little more...  _fun_  in mind."

Well,  _that_  sounds ominous.

Jade taps a pencil on the desk. "And what would that be?" she asks, already knowing she'll regret it sooner or later.

Ike leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head but never taking eyes off her.

"See, it occurred to me today that we've been sitting in this reasonably-hidden back row for two months now—among these glorious,  _sheltering_  tables, might I add— _and_  Craney boy has bad hearing." He clicks his tongue, voice dropping. "And yet we've never taken advantage of this superb alignment of fortune."

Jade narrows her eyes instantly. "Are you suggesting—?"

Ike's hand slips between her thighs.

His fingers slip under her thong. Quick, cool, and effectively cutting off whatever doubts she had.

She gasps, hand flying to her mouth lest  _someone hear_ , and snaps her legs as tightly shut as she can, straightening.

"I am," he agrees with a pleased smirk and an eyebrow wiggle.

"Are you fucking crazy?" she snarls in a whisper, leaning closer to his obnoxious face. "We're in  _class_ , dipshit."

He rolls his eyes and leisurely takes his sunglasses off.

As if his hand wasn't buried in the warm wetness of her folds.

"Yeah, and, contrary to what the brochures would lead our parents to believe, we have nothing better to do." He gestures around the room. "Don't try to deny it, Red, your abused notebook agrees with me," he points out.

He leans more comfortably against his chair and gives her an amused once-over.

"Besides,  _tell me_  you've never fantasized about doing it in public."

To prove his point, he wiggles those skilled fingers of his under her skirt. Her thighs are still slammed shut—unsurprisingly strong—but they can't prevent  _every_  motion. And it's worth it to see tiny shudders of excitement shoot up her spine.

Little sparks that  _already_  weaken her resolve. Shit.

Truth be told, a hand down her pants in a room full of kids in school uniforms is  _exactly_  how a lot of her fantasies have begun. Double shit..

"I  _haven't_ ," she lies on pure principle.

"Oh,  _really?_ " He runs a tongue over his bottom lip. "Then what's with all those times you didn't bother to lock the closet door behind us? Or groped me during gym class?"

An impish glint enters his eye as he leans even further in, so close she can't see him anymore, only the impeccably-maintained skin of his cheek.

His voice drops to a barely audible whisper. "Or, dare I mention, the  _forest hump_?"

Okay,  _now_  he's just mocking her. Which is good—when you think about it—because the annoyance distracts her from the little movements happening in her nether regions.

(Ahow turned on she is just by the  _idea_  of going through with this.

Which she's not considering. At all.)

In a few moments, she's going to kick him in the nuts and this will be nothing but an unfortunate memory that she can forget all about and definitely  _not_  recall during long, sleepless nights.

But when did his body get so close that she could feel the heat coming off it? When did blood start pounding in her vision? When did her shallow breaths turn into pants?

"Admit it, Ellsworth," he whispers in her ear, enunciating every word. His hot breath tickles her cheek and sends heat down, down, down. "You  _get off_  on the danger of being discovered."

He swallows without haste and the sound of his Adam's apple bobbing echoes throughout her whole body.

"You touched yourself while on the phone with the neighbor lady down the street," he continues, turning his movements between her thighs to barely a teasing tickle, and suddenly her eyes feel swollen with heat as she tries her damndest to keep them on the people ahead. "You took explicitly erotic fiction with you to school and left your bag unattended for  _hours_  every day."

She hears his every inhale and feels the blood pulsing through his hand, pressed too close to her throbbing folds to leave any room for safety nets.

"You wrote the kinkiest things your innocent mind could come up with in your precious,  _ornate_  diary with a broken lock," he whispers slowly. "Just  _hoping_  that maybe one day someone would read it and make  _all_  your darkest, unsaid wishes a reality."

As if her ragged, suppressed breathing weren't enough of an answer, his fingers become increasingly damper with every word.

Then his tongue darts out to swipe behind her earlobe—hot, quick, wet—and Jade's eyes flutter shut.

Oh,  _Lord_ , have mercy.

"The thought that you could be sinning. Right.  _Here_ ," he continues in that maddening whisper. "Right.  _Now_." He exhales in a quiet half-laugh, his hot breath waking up the cells of her skin. "And nobody had even the  _slightest_  inkling."

He grunts quietly right into the redhead's ear,  _solely_  for her benefit, and watches with pleasure as goosebumps rise on her neck.

"It drives you  _nuts_."

Oh, if only she could see his grin right then. He'd love that. But his teeth are too busy almost dragging—but not quite—themselves across her skin to allow him to pull back, and he's sure she knows him well enough by now to hear it in his voice.

"Well, well,  _well_ ," Ike mutters, pulling his fingers out of where her thighs were holding them hostage—with a bit of difficulty—and puts his fluid-covered hand on the table as evidence.

It smells like pure sex and sends a rush of blood to his groin. Which he elects to ignore for the moment; her arousal is much more relevant to his plans for the next twenty minutes.

He tsks teasingly. "What do we have here?"

Jade glowers at him.

Whether it's about pulling his hand away or putting it there in the first place, she'd rather not ask herself.

She  _wants_  to deny it, wants to swat his hand off the table (and into his  _own_  pants, if he's so horny), wants to stop the air from being so heated and dense she can barely breathe.

But she  _knows_  what Ike's fingers between her legs can do. She  _remembers_  the pleas she came perilously close to saying at the end of each English class back home—in front of her entire class, if that would just get her teacher to  _listen_  and make her his. The most intense orgasm of hers that Ike had nothing to do with is—however unfortunate— _still_  that time she stumbled upon two teenagers doing it in the woods two years ago and jerked off to the sight of it.

And she simply no longer has the energy to pretend that she's not as fucked up as he is.

So instead, Jade grabs his hand off the desk and shoves it back down under her skirt, muffling a groan with her fist when he starts stroking her with zero hesitation.

Her other hand—the one not occupied by her teeth biting into it hard enough to leave marks that won't fade for days—reaches for his already-prominent bulge in response and presses down on it lightly.

It becomes tighter under her fingers as he makes eye contact, impressed.

"Jade." His knees part involuntarily. "What are you up to?"

Payback,  _obviously_.

"Why don't we make this a game?" she whispers as he shifts closer, still rubbing her folds.

He gives her a once-over, with those perky breasts and strong thighs and hair that always looks like bed hair no matter how much she combs it. "I'm listening."

And then the corners of her bold lips turn up and her eyes turn wicked and a breeze from the open window rustles her hair, and he's not entirely sure if she's excited or just taunting him, but his heart stops at the sight.

It's the most devilish thing he's ever seen in his entire life, and suddenly his chest seems denser, and he has a new appreciation for her face—as opposed to her other body parts that he's  _long_  since been a fan of—and there seems to be an unscheduled assembly for his blood happening right in the area of his cock.

Interesting.

"What I'm proposing is: whoever gets the other off first," Jade says, tugging the zipper of his pants down with painfully slow movements, "gets one free pass."

"Free pass." He rolls the phrase around on his tongue. "For anything?"

That quickly summoned glint in his eyes would scare Jade if it didn't excite her so much.

" _Anything_ ," she confirms.

"Oh, you're  _on_ ," he says and immediately starts pumping two fingers in and out of her. "But I must warn you—"

He stifles a moan when her fingers finally make contact with his sensitive flesh, teasing.

"Yeah, hey, Red, if you think that all it takes is a few strokes and a lick or two, then you have  _no idea_  how long I can hold off. Although I  _strongly_  encourage you to test this statement," he adds with a smirk. "Especially the licking part. You know how I'm never truthful."

She chuckles, taunting him with her light movements that turn tighter and quicker with every second. "Buddy, if all it took were a few strokes, it would be  _way_  too easy," she says and her perfectly-shaped lips wrap around the words in a way that makes his dick harden all the way, especially when he catches the dare in her eyes.

Wow. What. a.  _woman_.

Uh, he means "that's hot". He's totally not staring at her in awe. Or can't feel his breath because the air is too dense and too full of her scent for any oxygen to push through. Nope.

Everything is perfectly normal and acceptably perverted.

Just think of gross things, Ike, and you'll win easily.

But then Jade withdraws her fist from him and he has to swallow an actual  _whine_. While he ponders the humiliating implications of this response, she takes a quick glance around the classroom to survey the possible onlookers and, satisfied with their uninterrupted privacy— for now—rolls her hips into his hand.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. That wasn't part of the deal. Her actively aiding his fingerfucking her was  _not part of the deal._

But, then, neither was Jade sucking on two of the fingers just relieved from handjob duty, and he can't find it in himself to complain about  _that_. Her bold lipstick transfers onto her digits a little bit more with every movement, every lick, every suck, and he just stares.

Mesmerized.

Those fingers must already smell and taste like him, is all he can think.

Years and years of exploring everything there is to know about his body and letting countless others do the exploring leave no doubt in his mind that what she tastes on her tongue at this very moment—while she's looking at him with those direct, dark eyes—is the undiluted essence of him.

Well. Holding back might just be a  _little_  harder than he thought.

Jaw clenched, he watches as she slowly, teasingly licks up her palm with another side glance to the class that, by all laws, shouldn't send such a spike through all his vitals as it does. But it does.  _Oh_ , how it does. And it seems there's more than one person sitting at that desk with a kink for keeping quiet in public.

In retaliation for his shortness of breath, he withdraws  _his_  fingers from her depths and instead finds her nub, nudging it with his middle finger. Almost leisurely at first, to match her questioning gaze, but then he flips a switch and starts rubbing her so quickly that he may as well have been vibrating his hand.

Seeing the resulting hard twitch of her abdomen gives him great satisfaction—as does the shut-eyed gritting of her teeth when a second and a third follows—but, when he slows and she regains her composure, her gaze makes it clear that he's about to be  _very_  sorry for it.

Her revenge might seem like no big deal—just returning her now-saliva-slicked hand to stroking his shaft, same as he's working her. And, it would be, if that were all she did.

But instead of adopting  _his_  technique and sabotaging her own chances of bliss for the win, she spreads her legs wide and rocks her hips into his palm as hard as is possible under the circumstances—hard enough to have his fingers slip back into her slick depths without him really trying—never breaking their eye contact.

Then once more.

And again. And again. Until it no longer seems as if he has any say whatsoever in the speed and force with which she rides him, bottom lip bitten and head thrown back.

Oh, it's  _on_ , baby, her gaze seems to say.

And Ike's never been attracted to her more.

Though he  _does_  want to ask whether her compliance means his fingers are better than the agreed prize or that she thinks she can let him do all he wants—even help—and she'll still win.

This question is very important, okay?

Blood starts pounding in his neck and the thuds in his ears reduce Mr. Crane's lecture to a mere background buzzing, and he has to loosen the purple scarf around his neck for fear of getting a heat stroke. His collarbone is slick with sweat and there's a growl building somewhere in his chest, and  _she doesn't get to do this to him_.

Yet the boy still half-jumps out of his chair and into her fist when it tightens back around his cock, and only Jade's swift covering of his mouth with her palm—the same one she's bitten into a dozen times already in this endeavor—prevents the entire class from finding out what they're doing.

As it is, that one boy in the row ahead glances back at them. But what he doesn't bother to properly lay his sights on can't haunt him for the rest of his life, right? Man, he hopes so.

Cautiously, the redhead withdraws her hand from Ike's face and returns it to her own.

"Stay quiet," she says, almost offended. As if he's somehow not meeting her expectations. And that does it.

He's not sure why, but he needs to feel her lips, like,  _right now_.

So he grabs a fistful of her hair with his free hand and yanks her forward, and it's awkward because of how their arms are tangled together, but he manages to plant a sloppy one on her anyway—so vague and undefined that his cheeks are probably covered in the matted violet lipstick she's favored lately—and it does sate something within him. Something that shall remain nameless and shapeless, and will never be mentioned again.

Just as soon as he's kissed her one more time to the beat of their hips rocking together. And maybe once more after that.

Jade's hips have found a steady rhythm with his fingers and she rolls them quickly and without shame. The wooden chair underneath her makes a loud creak at one point and she stops instantly, putting on her best innocent face as some of the kids look back at them. Ike has considerably more trouble wiping that tell-tale smirk off his face—even when her strokes stop—but she kicks him in the shin and pretends to write something in her notebook until the witnesses turn away to witness something other than two of their peers giving each other handjobs.

Before they turn away, though, her gaze lands on the blackboard for the first time during the lesson, and she hears the lecture for once, and she's reasonably certain she won't ever again be able to think about this classroom—or history in general—without getting soaked-panties levels of horny.

Well. It could turn out to be a fun semester, after all, she thinks as he rocks up into her all-but forgotten fist with a pointedly expectant stare. Oh, right. She's supposed to be getting him off too.

Her lips curve upward and she bites into her fist to keep her panting to a minimum as she starts squirming on his hand again. The redhead's legs drift farther and farther apart until they're separated by nearly a hundred and eighty degrees and she's sinking in her seat to allow him better angles, and he hits her sensitive spot once—probably accidentally, if she knows him at all—and there's  _so much heat_  creeping up her neck. It's ridiculous, really.

With her hair and her vest, and her lips, and her nails, and her freckles, and now her flushing, Jade's pretty sure she looks like red wine personified. But who cares? This might just be worth every embarrassing joke later on, she thinks with a glance over the entire classroom.

She's hiding behind a desk that reaches just below her breasts and obscures everything that can't be seen from behind them, and she's muffling all the sounds that beg to come out of her, and yet she can't recall a single time in her life she's felt this free.

"My, my," Ike drawls, gazing at her with what passes for wonder with him, "are we getting close already?"

She squeezes her fist tighter on its next way up out of sheer spite, relishing his sharp intake of air as she keeps pumping.

"You wish," she whispers breathlessly.

But a shallow moan escapes her and she carefully puts her free hand on his, guiding his fingers to places he wouldn't find on his own, doing things she's never told him she wanted.

Jade almost doesn't care about the bet anymore; she just needs this to be perfect and their combined hands are doing a pretty damn good job of making that happen. Faster, Ike, quicker, Ike, lower, Ike, oh man  _fuck oh god faster_ —

"Miss Ellsworth."

She nearly comes right then and there.

Um.

That's such an inappropriate reaction to being interrupted by a teacher. So right, but so wrong.

Her entire being freezes and she starts trembling from this kind of weird limbo she's in where it feels like miracles are flowing through her veins but she's grounded to Earth too, and, hey, would you look at that, also in class.

"Y-yes, Mr. Crane?" she stammers out.

Ike chuckles in his free hand and keeps fingering her, swiping his thumb over her clit periodically. She hisses at him and tries to swat his hand away, but he won't budge, and so neither does Jade, massaging the head of his cock with extra care as she tries to keep from moaning when all eyes are on her.

It really would kind of be better if she weren't the personification of red wine right now, but, hey, at least she's not making any sou— ohhhh,  _fuck_  she hates Ike.

"What were we just talking about? You seem distracted."

"Me? Distracted?" She laughs with clenched teeth and a closed throat. Her voice is so small.  _Please let them think she's just shy_. "I've been all eyes and ears, sir." She clears her throat.

Eyes that are currently searching for any clues as to the subject matter of this lesson and trying not to roll into the back of her head.

Especially when Ike's middle finger drifts lower and just barely grazes the nerve endings of her asshole.

_Bastard_ , she thinks as her eyes bulge and it takes every drop of self-control not to burst out into a piercing scream.

"Then would you like to answer the last question?"

When her forehead stops twitching—the only outside sign of pleasure she allowed herself—she drops her hand down to Ike's balls and fondles them as best as she can in retaliation. His abdomen quivers and he shifts in his seat a bit, but otherwise it's not nearly as big of an impact as she'd hoped.

A bigger revenge plan starts forming in her mind.

"Sure. The, uh—"  _Shit_ , it should be illegal for anyone to be that good with his hands. "The Inquisition—" Dammit, dammit, dammit,  _what_  is the question? "It, um…"

It's then that her current ninja-hand torturer takes pity on her and mutters the question— _only_  the question—under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear. And then the pity's over and he returns to setting her on fire, so hard that she can barely keep her eyes open, so hard that her own fist actually stops working him to concentrate.

But he's saved her nevertheless.

"The, uh, prison was active during the Inquisition and was the subject of—" calm breaths, calm breaths, Ike _why won't you quit doing that_ "—a manuscript found right here—" she is so gonna kill him "—at Morning Glories Academy—" when, when, when? "—in the, um, nineteen hundreds."

"Early or late?"

She hates Ike with a burning passion. "Precise date unknown."

The teacher nods, once and sharply. "That is correct, but not the  _whole_  truth; now, who can tell me  _which_ ….?"

Mr. Crane's voice fades into oblivion as she's no longer able to pay attention to anything that is neither Ike's hand nor her own.

"Asswipe," she hisses quietly, but is so far gone that leans into his relentless touch anyway, burying her face into her free palm to hold her moans hostage.

"Now, now, Red; wasn't that fun?" He smirks and rests his head on an elbow anchored to the desk. "That was a  _fascinating_  exercise, I must say. I didn't think you had that in you." And the fact that she  _did_  makes him feel things he didn't think he was capable of feeling.

But her eyes narrow and her tongue runs over her teeth at the sight of him, all casual like that. He probably thinks he's gonna win, the traitor.

"Oh, you'd be surprised at what I have in me," she warns and grabs a random object from the table.

Ike watches curiously, two fingers paused in the process of pumping in and out of her.

"Whoops, I seemed to have dropped my pencil," she states with a pointed glance to the floor.

He straightens in his seat with jerky movements, keeping his eyes on her with a frown.

" _Let me just go look for it,_ " she says, glaring, and drops to her knees in the shelter of the large table.

Ike's fingers are nearly severed at her abrupt movements that force them out of her and he practically starts yelling because who the fuck does she think she is, but then her lips close over the head of his cock—something they've never  _ever_  done before—and all his protests die halfway down his throat.

Oh. That's who the fuck she is.

Good to know.

His fingers—still sticky with her juices—fly to her head and tangle in her hair and caress her neck as her tongue swirls on the underside of his shaft and makes his eyes bulge. She kisses his balls gingerly and takes one in her mouth, sucking, and, jesus h. christ, he has no idea what his muscles are doing.

His toes curl and he gulps, and he seems to be flexing the fingers presently not buried in her hair to the point of never using his hand again, so he forcefully slaps a palm on his knee to avoid this and also provide an outlet for the loud grunts he feels approaching.

See, this is why she should listen to him more often. Hasn't he been trying to convince her to give him a blowjob for, like, three months? And here she is, perfectly adequate—ooooh,  _aahhh_ , make that "amazing"—at it, and his dick wants to weep at all the warm slickness he could've been getting all these weeks.

Oh, wait, that's not his dick  _weeping_ , that's him on the verge of coming.

That  _sly little minx_.

But then Jade takes him into her mouth for real, hidden safely from sight under the table, and he takes everything back.

She is evil and there's no way he's winning now; all he can do is accept defeat and enjoy it—and enjoy it he would, except that it would go against his entire worldview.

He doesn't  _lose_.

And, see, as soon as he forms the thought, he spots her watching him from below.

Her eyes stare directly up at him, dark and clear and daring, and something unwinds in his chest with a grunt. His hips surge up into her mouth without his blessing—how is eye contact so  _hot?_  eye contact has always  _ruined things_  before; he demands a refund—but she doesn't choke, doesn't stop, just keeps bobbing up and down on his cock.

A low growl escapes him and his fingers tighten in her hair even more, and he's so close,  _so fucking close_ …

...and she pulls back at just the right moment.

But instead of torturing him more—which he's on the verge of accusing her of—Jade palms his head and resumes stroking him with her other hand, and licks the veiny underside of his shaft once more.

The last thing that runs through his overcharged brain before he explodes is that he may have just found a keeper.

Miraculously, he doesn't make a sound while white jets of come streak into her hand, but his body twitches over and over again and his head falls back so hard it hits the wall behind it with a dull thud, and he shows zero signs of life for a full minute.

When he's done coming, she wipes her hand neatly on his slacks— _he_  can deal with the dry cleaning—and waits for him to lift his head, not bothering to get out from under the table. She wants him to see what's gonna happen next.

He trembles, aftershocks still having their way with his body—which feels so, so, mushy and warm—and hides his face into his palms to conceal the pleading expression that just won't go away.

Pleading to what, he doesn't know. Maybe thanking the universe for the existence of orgasms. Yeah, that could be it. For all his appreciation of them, he doesn't spend nearly enough time being grateful.

Ike swallows—loud enough, it seems, for the entire classroom to hear—and runs a few fingers through his hair as he finally feels able to move his head to a normal position, marveling at how nobody seems to know what just transpired here. This fucking  _universe-altering_  nirvana.

He slaps his own cheek sharply and rubs his face with his hands to wake up, and they smell like  _her_ , smell like sex, and suddenly he remembers that Jade exists.

He peeks down at her and catches her gaze, smiling lazily. He's not used to doing that, but… just this once. She deserves a gold medal, he has to admit.

Then, however, Jade shifts to reveal her still swollen and red core under her skirt and his smile disappears, gaze fixed to that soft, throbbing flesh.

Uh. What are the odds that someone would notice if he also disappeared under the table right now and tasted her? If he… drove his tongue so deep inside her that he couldn't breathe. Dug his fingers into her flesh while his mouth unraveled her. Bit down on her neck as his hips rammed into her.

"Jade…"

No, seriously, he needs to have someone calculate these odds for future encounters like this because it's taking every ounce of willpower to remain in his seat.

She licks a finger, pushes her underwear away and starts stroking herself in full view of Ike, swatting his hand away when he tries to help.

"I  _won_ ," she says petulantly and moves her hips on the floor, making all the faces she couldn't above the table. None of the sounds, of course, but, hey, it's something.

"I  _sincerely_  beg to differ," he whispers, unable to take his eyes off her folds and the way her fingers move over her own flesh. So quickly, easily, lightly. He starts getting hard just thinking about having those fingers back on himself. Or his on hers. Whichever. "I would've just demanded a blow job anyway. And that was… hrem, decent."

Jade snorts and spreads her legs wide. "Puh-lease. That was was great and you know it," she mutters, arching her back and wondering how long she can stay under the table before someone starts wondering where she has disappeared to.

He tries to nonchalantly wipe away the bit of drool that's started to form in the corner of his mouth. "What was it that you wanted me to do so badly anyway? That you would do…" He gestures with a hand. "That?"

"Oh, I don't really have any deep, dark urges to make you act upon," she says, glowing with impishness. "I just wanted to have the upper hand."

Excuse me?

"Why  _you_ —"

"But now that I have it, I think I'm gonna have you,  _mmmmm-uhhh_ ," she moans quietly at her own fingers, "I think I'm gonna have you... _strip_  for me."

He frowns. "...Come again?"

Jade smiles softly. "I'd love to; just gimme a minute."

She bites her lip and works her fingers around her nub chaotically, the smell of sex invading her senses in this small space. Her nose identifies her own scent, mingling with his and weaving through the air with the help of her fingers. She tastes the musky mix on her tongue and notices the small drop of his come on the floor, and sees the sheen of sweat still lingering on his naked pelvis, and  _she did that_.

_She_  made the whore-frequenter and self-proclaimed forever playboy come harder than she's ever seen him to.  _She_  put that I-found-god expression on his face.  _She_  is the one he looks so hungry for.

_She_  won.

Something comes loose in her chest or her mind at the thought and it tips her over the edge, and then her face squishes into a crinkly, childish smile as she feels her muscles contracting. Her toes curl at the golden light running through her body and she whimpers as loud as she dares to—which isn't loud at all—and she forgets to notice that, when she starts to convulse, Ike's hand shoots out to hold her and keep her from falling.

Which he withdraws as soon as he realizes what it's done.

She manages to stroke herself down from her high, but only just barely. Her breath comes in gasps and her abdomen is still twitching, but she's spent and sated and rests against the inside back of the table, legs at a weird angle and skirt haphazardly gathered up.

The hard wood of the desk is actually quite comfortable. Stiff and cold, sure, but, If she had just one pillow, she could totally sleep here. If she wanted. Which she does not.

Just to curl up for a minute. Gather up her strength. Imagine she's in a five-star hotel, laying back into silk sheets with whipped cream covering her chest, having just been thoroughly fucked by Ryan Gosling.

Nothing extreme.

But the voice of Mr. Crane pulls Jade out of her lazy illusions and, with a sigh, she adjusts her clothing to cover up the indecent parts (and a stain or two). Reluctantly, her fingers grab the pencil she dropped on the floor and she settles back into her seat with a wink at Ike.

"So." She rests her chin on her elbow with a warm yet smug smile. "Stripping."

"Yes." He finally stuffs his flaccid member back into his boxers as it becomes clear the sexy shenanigans are done for the day. "Please elaborate."

"I want thongs," she declares with pursed lips. "And leather. And  _at least_  three layers, peeled off one article at a time. And butt wiggling. And  _quite possibly_  fishnets."

She flashes him a mischievous grin and he gulps.

Her eyes twinkle. "Make Lady Marmelade  _sexy_  for me, Ike."

He clears his throat and returns his attention to the class, which is about to end.

"To be perfectly honest, Red, I'm torn between wondering about the chances of me enjoying such a scenario and just avoiding you for the rest of time and space."

"Good." Jade gathers her things when the bell rings. "If you do it right, I'll rock your world later."

She stares pointedly at the large, not-quite-dried stain on his slacks.

He makes a sound with his teeth.

"All right, then," he mutters to himself. "Where can I find leather in this hellhole?"

**Author's Note:**

> Every fandom needs its bad smut. So. I guess I'm here to provide it?


End file.
